Anyone that knows me well, knows my relationship with tennis is a complicated one. If you will remember, years ago I had to give up my dream job to take a job managing a swim and racquet club to feed my family. I found myself on a tractor taking care of tennis courts that I had no idea how to take care of. I was not prepared or equipped to keep a tennis community happy; thus my complicated relationship with tennis. Luckily, since then we have hired a good looking tennis pro that has done the job that I was not able to do. So when your 16 year old son, who just a year ago was hospitalized and then on homebound education, asks you to play tennis your only choice, regardless of your relationship with tennis, is to say…”Oh my gosh! I would love to” (translated “Oh my gosh someone shoot me”) Insert my plug for On line PE here…This would never have happened if my son was not required to wear a heart rate monitor and record at least 3 one hour workout sessions a week.
So we headed to the tennis courts; motivated by online PE, time with my boy, and a chance to wear my new Lu Lu Lemon workout pants. (I always say, if you can’t play well, at least look good) I quickly discovered that playing tennis with my boy was not very different from what I do for a living; pretty much just picking up tennis balls from the bushes. We had a couple of good rallies… well one. But the important thing was we were exercising and having fun. We couldn’t help but giggle every time I asked him if he had any balls. His response, “Only one, I lost the other in Nam”. Not to mention the fact that I wished I was wearing depends for every 3 out of 4 shots. We were terrible, really terrible. But it was fun, really fun. I kept looking across the net thinking; this time last year I was on my knees, face down, begging God to bring my son back to me. And here he was, my funny, smart, and really horrible tennis player son; laughing and running, and being himself. And it happened on a tennis court. I’ve learned a few things about tennis in my time at the racquet club. I now know there are ratings for how well you play tennis. 3.0, 3.5, 4.0 etc… I’m pretty sure Cameron and I set some new standards for ratings, somewhere in the negative integers. But, I’m also pretty sure as far as tennis matches go, this one rated a 5.0 in satisfaction.
I would have never imagined it happening on a tennis court, but it did. It was on that tennis court that I realized I have my boy back! My bunion hurts and my back hurts, but my heart is happy. And, Now I’m off to get a patent for tennis wear with depends built in; you know for the over 50 crowd. You are welcome, ladies.